She Taught Me How To Be Small
by MarieAngelie
Summary: "Just because she comes off strong, doesn't mean she doens't fall asleep crying. And though she acts like nothing's wrong, maybe she's just really good at lying." She broke down my wall, and I broke down in her arms. True Story.


You know, I have always been big. Not in the physical since, I'm only about 130lbs. But I have been strong, able to withstand almost anything. Comments bounce off as if I was made of rubber. Insults slide off my back. Nothing is supposed to bother me; I was meant to be strong. I needed to be strong; I had no other choice. But they all say that walls are put up so that the insides don't get crushed. No truer sentence had ever been spoken.

It was my senior retreat weekend. We all went to this secluded camp for three days. We had no idea what was going to happen; all seniors are sworn to secrecy once they return. To say that we were wary was putting it lightly. Time was of no importance; we were not allowed to have watches, phones, clocks, etc. Nothing that allowed us a time frame or contact with the outside world. We were in our own world now, and by the end of the weekend, no one would be willing to leave.

I knew we had arrived on a Thursday night, but after that, all the days blended together. I couldn't tell you when we did this, or what time we slept. But it was dark outside when our eyes were opened to each other. It was dark when we seated ourselves in a huge circle on too thin rugs. Who knows how long we had sat there, listening to others' stories. It could have been hours for all I know. The stories heard were not cliché; rather, they had told of who we were as teenagers. They told of what we had to deal with, of what we were stressing over. But also, they told of how strong this generation really is. I cannot tell you of their stories, because they are not mine to tell. But I will tell you mine.

We told our stories in no order; it was completely arbitrary. Silence came over us as another story ended, and I felt that I couldn't keep it in any longer. I took a deep breath and began.

"My family was never close. I grew up knowing that. I knew that there was a huge disconnection, but I still don't know the story. Yet it was such a strong liability. My mother had gotten into the habit of checking the obituary section of the paper to see if any family members had passed away. It had happened more than once that she had stumbled upon relatives there. No one in our family called us; no one bothered to contact any of us. Too much effort, I guess. My extended family never bothers to tell us when a member of the family had passed, is in the hospital, had surgery or passed out from alcohol poisoning (this happens more than you'd think). They fight over money, wills (who gets what) and possessions. It makes Thanksgivings and Christmases more than awkward. To those who have big families: I envy you. I envy you to no end. What I wouldn't give for aunt and uncles who knew what grade I was in, when my birthday was, or what I liked to do. What I wouldn't give for cousins I saw more than twice a year, if that. What I wouldn't give for those cheesy huge family group pictures, even an Award Family Photo or two. This is why I needed to be strong, because my family consisted of five people."

"My family was in the process of moving. We were getting the blueprints together, deciding where this would go in that room, what color to make this wall in the Great Room. Endless minuscule details. The parents started arguing. Again. It started to get pretty heated, so I went out to the kitchen, where they were 'discussing'. Sometimes if I walk into the room when they're fighting, they'll calm down or stop entirely. I wasn't even acknowledged this time. If they knew I was there, they made no signal of it. And the argument escalated. I could tell the fight was coming to a climax; tension kept rising and rising. I knew it would break; it always does. But this had never happened before. Never in all of my then-sixteen years would I have thought I had to witness what I did. He hit her. My world stopped, frozen in that moment. They kept going, moving to another room. I stood in the kitchen, dumbfounded. It was like my mind could not comprehend what I had just seen. My heart was the only thing I could hear, and my tears were the only thing I could feel."

"Now," I told my circle of listening ears and intent eyes, "flashback to my childhood mind-frame. On every birthday candle and every list to Santa, I wished for one thing and one thing only: a sister. When I was really greedy, I asked for a twin, knowing full well this was impossible. I wanted someone to tell me that my family was normal; to show me that-if I looked past all of the negative- there was a good, caring family under all the lies, fights and alcohol. Someone to tell me that it was okay, that _I_ was okay. I wanted someone to love that wasn't my parents or grandma."

"In my incredulous moment, I desperately wanted someone to run to. But instead I ran to my empty bed and threw the covers over me, shutting me out of my unwanted world. This was the moment I felt most alone. This was the moment that my strong outer shell had cracked. I knew that I would crumble, just as my family had done, right before my eyes. I brought my phone from only Godknowswhere and I lit it up, light blinding me. Tears threatening to fall, I scrolled through the contacts until I found the person I needed. I pushed the button, and balanced the phone on my face, my arms now encircling my body as if my insides would burst at any moment. I listened to the ring with bated breath."

"You said hello, and I barely got out your name. You listened to me cry. You listened to my incoherent ramblings about what happened. You whispered sweet nothings in my ear. And for a long time, we sat in silence on the phone. I matched my breath to yours and I calmed myself down. '_I'm here as long as you need me.'_ I still remember those words, clear as day."

"Well, house plans were finalized, and moving day came faster than expected. As anyone would expect, we found old photo albums. And it was there that I found what I had been wishing for all my competent life. About five or six pictures of the two of us, playing as babies. And that's when it hit me, like a ton of freaking bricks. I was _not _alone. I _did_ have a sister. She was on the other line of the phone that night, and she is in this circle listening to me retell this story."

She had shifted to my left, across the circle, and I knew she was about to get up. However, she sat back down, like she couldn't make up her mind.

"And to this day, almost fifteen years later, she is the only one who knows when I'm upset, who can pick up on my subliminal messages. .the._only_.one who knocked down my wall. And I think of her as my sister."

I ended my story with that and others' stories began. Eventually it had come time for this to be wrapped up. I stood, and stretched. And no sooner did I lower my arms, that a new pair enveloped me. She was there, just like always. She pulled away, looked my in the eye, and whispered,

"_I love you."_

And as if on cue, the tears came once again, and I cried into the crook of her neck for what seemed like forever.

She let me know that night, with that very gesture, that I did not have to be strong. I did not have to be big anymore. She understood, and that's all I've ever wanted.

It was there, in her arms, that she taught me to be small.


End file.
